Meet the. Same as the old loss?
“I’m listening to things that are happening so that it sounds better,” Greg “Hoffer” Hoffius, hunched over in Section 401, top o’ The Rockpile, told me on Friday while the Phillies were using the right-field scoreboard at Coors Field for target practice. “But I just watched the first half-inning, and I was like, ‘What?'”
Philadelphia 10, Bleak Street Bummers 1. Rockies starter Michael Lorenzen surrendered a touchdown in the top of the first. The Phils tacked one more each in the second and third. The Local 9 didn’t record a scoreless inning until the fourth.
What the heck happened to “our 2-4 start is better than the usual 2-4?”
“That’s narrative every year, right?” Hoffius said. “‘Hey, we killed it in spring training.'”
They spent Friday afternoon crushing souls. The Rockies’ Mickey Moniak lost Bryson Stott’s flyball to short right in the Colorado sunshine, playing it into a double and a 3-0 deficit.
“That was a good start,” Hoffius groused.
Brandon Marsh launched a 454-foot home run into the bullpen trees. 6-0.
“Oh, wow,” Hoffius’ buddy Ryan Masters said.
Double. Ground out to third. Trea Turner, batting for the second time in the half-inning, singled to right. 7-0.
“There ya go,” Hoffius quipped.
“Here we go,” Masters countered.
“No biggie,” Hoffius said.
Philly 7, Colorado 0. Where’s Bo Nix when you need him?
“It was sad,” Hoffer sighed. “It was crazy.”
Hoffius digs his Rockies through thin and thinner. Honest. He’s been coming to Coors for more than two decades, four or five games a year, almost always Opening Day, if he can swing it.
“I don’t pay attention like it used to, to be honest,” Hoffius continued. “And this is not that great. I don’t know. You just quit doing it. You know, after a while, you’re like, ‘Dude, they’re not going to do anything.'”
Except, maybe, break your heart.
“Wouldn’t it be cool to be, like, proud to be a Rockies fan?” Hoffer wondered out loud. “Right?”
Not this month. Not yet. Not when you’re taking your own crowd out of the game from the jump.
“I don’t know that (the Rockies) aren’t not spending money. It just doesn’t seem like it,” Hoffius said. “When you see what the Broncos did, they brought in the Waltons (the Walton-Penner Group) and they went, ‘Bam, bam, let’s fix this (expletive).'”
They also paid Russell Wilson to go the heck away, more or less, nipping a franchise-QB mistake squarely in the bud. Not the Rox. While we’re comparing historically awful 2022 contracts, the Rockies continue to keep a seat warm for Kris Bryant.
“I go to Nuggets games. I got to Avalanche games. It’s awesome to win,” Hoffius continued. “At the end of the day, the (Rockies) ask, ‘What’s our bottom line? ‘We’re still making the money. Are we going to make any more money with a better team?'”
With that, half the crowd went nuts again. The Philly half. 8-0, bad guys.
No baseball community dies harder, without reward, than the Rockies faithful, spring after spring. You feel for those who wear their purple hearts on their sleeves, such as Denver super fan Gregorio Banuelos, better known ’round these parts as “Mexican Elvis.”
About 90 minutes before the first pitch, I watched as a Phillies fan, head-to-toe in red, pinstriped replica garb, ran up to Banuelos on Blake Street and wagged a cocky, condescending finger in his face.
“You are losing!” the interloper shouted. “You’re losing!”
“The Rockies are going to score 22 runs on you, just for that,” Banuelos countered.
Poor Elvis. For most of the last seven years, Coors Field has been Banuelos’ Heartbreak Hotel.
“You know, I couldn’t care less,” Elvis shrugged. “Because I still support my home team. And I’m going to tell you something. I like when somebody says something like that. You know why? It makes them more excited. If everybody goes for the same thing, it’s not going to be any fun.”
9-0.
9-1.
10-1.
This is fun?
“They started slowly, but they’re going to figure it out,” Banuelos said. “I know they’re going to figure it out.”
It’s the hope that kills you. One April at a time. Even random TV shows are taking potshots now. Hoffius was watching the on Hulu recently when two characters, a young man and the title character,
YOUNGSTER: You’re real bad at this, bro.
DECKER: OK.
YOUNGSTER: Seriously, if breaking into cars were baseball, you’d be the Rockies.
DECKER: Well, maybe if I had a better teacher.
Hoffer just shook his head.
“I mean, that’s like, A-B-C, dude. Like, prime time, 7:30 (at night),” he said. “You’re like, ‘Ow. Wow.'”
10-1? Ow. Wow. New year. New players. New front office. New coaches. To Hoffius, Dick Monfort’s world looks just the same.
